


The Fine Art of Bullshit

by ArdenLaufeyson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys In Love, Castiel Needs Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, How Do I Tag, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Needs Brain Bleach, Sam Winchester is Scarred For Life, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sam is a Saint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24402562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdenLaufeyson/pseuds/ArdenLaufeyson
Summary: Sam Winchester has dealt with many things in his lifetime... Far too many if you ask him. He's faced off against monsters, demons, angels. He's fought off the Devil himself. But nothing could ever prepare him for the infuriating pile of bullshit denial that is his brother Dean and their resident angel Castiel.Sam just wants the two of them to get their heads out of their asses and get on with it already.Sam got way more than he ever wanted. Way more. And there will NEVER be enough brain bleach in the world to get that out of his head.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 100





	The Fine Art of Bullshit

Sam was startled awake by a calloused hand hitting his shoulder roughly. He grumbled out a slurred "Wha-" before the creak of the Impala's door signalled that they were finally at the bunker. 

"Come on Sleeping Beauty. Back home." 

Sam groaned again and peeled his cheek off the cold glass of the window to glare at his brother with narrowed eyes, but Dean was already sauntering off, his leather duffel bag strung over his shoulder. Jack hopped out of the Impala with far too much ease and practicality skipped out if the garage. Sam followed suite, dragging his gargantuan limbs into the war room with Cas trailing behind him. 

They'd just arrived back from a disgusting case involving witches and hexes that left Sam resenting ever leaving the bunker in the first place. It had taken four days to get a lead, and that was only after they had called Cas out there for a fresh set of eyes. The rest of the case ended quickly, with a showdown in an old warehouse, because it always just HAD to be abandoned warehouses didn't it? Sam had thought on more than one occasion that if he were to turn to a life of petty crime and murder he would at least do it in style. Maybe have a yacht as his secret layer? Or a mansion with a pool? It was tempting if he was being totally honest. 

Sam watched Dean's retreating form as he headed off to bed. Sam noted the slight limp to his gait and the awkward way he held his left shoulder (The joint had popped out again for the billionth time and Sam had been forced to pop it back into place.) Dean, in pure Dean Winchester fashion, had jumped in front of Jack, catching one of the witches' spells square in the chest. He had gone sprawling through the air before crashing into the wall and then promptly losing consciousness. It would have been comical had it not been for the yell of pain and the blood spouting from a cut across his brother's forehead. 

Cas had trailed Dean like a kicked puppy the rest of the night, hoping that Dean would let him heal his injuries. But again, in pure Dean Winchester fashion, he'd refused. 

"Don't waste your mojo on me, Cas. I've had worse. Quit mother henning, man, " He'd said as he slammed Baby's door behind him. 

"I'm not wasting my 'mojo.'" Cas had responded without missing a beat, using his rediculous finger quotes to further his point. The next thirty minutes were spent listening to the two bicker back and forth, with Dean looking backwards at Cas more often than he looked at the road and Sam was honestly just grateful that they had made it home without being in a fiery car crash. Sam had fallen asleep after about an hour, grateful for his ability to tune out the other voices in the car. 

Back at the bunker, Sam bid Jack and Cas goodnight and loped his way into his own room. He dropped his bag on the floor and sunk into his bed, exhaustion hitting him like a freight train. 

\--------------

Sam awoke some time later and glanced at his bedside clock. It was 2 AM. Sam then became painfully aware that he was still wearing his shoes and his disgusting clothes from the hunt, and his throat burned with thirst. He toed his shoes off and tossed his dirty clothes into the hamper. He threw on a plain henley and some of his old sweatpants before padding his way towards the kitchen. Sam stopped short just outside the threshold at the sound of hushed voices. 

"-won't let me heal you? " 

Cas' rough voice spoke quietly. Sam peaked around the corner to see his brother and the angel sitting side by side at the table. 

"I told you, Cas. It's no big deal. I've had worse and it's not worth it."

Dean's voice was even softer, barely making it to Sam's ears. Sam noted, with no small degree of wonder, the relaxed state that his brother was in. His usual guarded mask of indifference had slipped away, leaving behind a much softer and more vulnerable look to his brother. Sam was pretty sure that he could count on one hand the amount of times he had seen such a look on Dean. 

"Dean, it's worth it to me. I don't like seeing you hurt." Cas' gaze was focused intently on Dean, whose green eyes were trained on his shoes. 

He sighed heavily and looked up to Cas' waiting gaze. 

"Fine." 

Sam watched as Cas raised his hand slowly, almost as if he was afraid Dean would move away, and settled it on Dean's cheek. Cas usually just used two fingers to heal, but this was clearly much more intimate. Sam's eyes widened as he witnessed Dean, macho man extraordinaire, Mr. No-chickflick-moments, Winchester, lean into the touch, nuzzling his cheek into Cas' palm and close his eyes.

Sam knew he should leave. He was witnessing something far to delicate for outside eyes, but his feet remained rooted to the spot. He didn't move, barely even breathed for fear of disturbing this rare moment between his brother and his best friend. "Cas-" Dean whispered, opening his forest green eyes to train on the blue ones staring down at him. The cut on Dean's forehead was gone, but Cas' palm remained on Dean's cheek a moment longer before sliding to cup the back of Dean's neck. Sam thought he must be dreaming when Dean leaned in towards Cas slowly, tilting his head up to give Cas access. Cas canted his head downwards, pressing their lips together. It was soft and shy. Dean's hand went up to cup Cas' cheek gently as he scooted over towards the angel, bringing there bodies flush against one another. Cas' other hand slid down Dean's shoulder and gripped him there. The same spot, Sam noted, that Cas' handprint had once occupied. 

Sam looked on in fascination and wonder as the two figures slowly drew each other closer. Sam wasn't surprised, though he was a little taken aback that this was finally happening after almost a decade of long stares and sexual tension. Sam had been forced to put up with it for so long that he was nearing the point of locking the two of them in the dungeon and not letting them out until they got their shit together. Sam was practically giddy with the knowledge that the two of them were finally allowing themselves to have a good thing and getting their heads out of their asses. But that excitement quickly turned to horror as the kiss was getting more heated. Dean was practically sitting in Cas' lap now and was running his fingers through Cas' unkept hair. 

Sam had two options: one, stand there and not move, watching his brother mack on Cas, for fear of the two of them hearing him. Cas had Vulcan hearing and it was a wonder he hadn't noticed Sam yet. The other was to go for it and run to his room in search of brain bleach. Cas groaned then. A broken "Dean." escaped the angels lips in a breathy moan. "I know. I know." Dean murmed as he slid Cas' trench coat off his shoulders. Sam looked on in absolute horror. Surely they weren't doing it here? In the kitchen of all places? And... Oh my God!

Sam turned and walked as quickly as he dared back towards his room. He was fairly certain, however, that Cas was far too occupied to notice him at the moment. He was gonna need therapy and pills to get over what he had just witnessed. There wasn't enough shrinks in the world to help him get the image of his brother and the angel humping each other at the kitchen table out of his head. That's where they eat food for christ sake! 

Sam locked his bedroom door behind him and sunk back into his bed. He thought, in even more horror, that he would have to put up with this now. He wasn't sure which was worse: eye fucking and enough sexual tension to literally make someone choke or Dean and Cas sucking face on a regular basis. Sam buried his face into his pillow. 

There wasn't enough brain bleach in the world to deal with either

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading! Please leave some comments. They make my day.


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